I wanted to use them as effortlessly as Jethro wielded his wintery charisma.
My body knew what it wanted. It wanted a release. It wanted to satiate and be sated. And it didn’t give a flying arse who granted the freedom of the mysterious orgasm. I knew who Jethro was—I knew this was all a game to him. But why couldn’t two people play? Why did I have to justify his touch as bad when it was so amazingly good?
Death was coming. Shouldn’t I try to live before I died?
Shouldn’t I embrace the lack of control by throwing away my submissive behaviour and fight for what I wanted?
For once in my life.
Be true and honest and raw.
Why can’t I use him? Just once be the bad girl and use the monster. Win by not fighting. Be stronger by giving in.
My pussy grew bolder, taking my unvoiced permission and growing wet, greedy, eager to experience the cock pressed firmly against me.
I…can’t.
You can.
I…won’t.
I will.
Jethro ducked, nipping my jaw with sharp teeth.
I unlocked my chastity belt, and melted into him. I arched my back, deliberately pressing my breasts against his chest.
His seduction lost the calculating edge, his breath went from calm to uneven.
Something new broke free inside. Some level of embarrassment of sex—the unapproved thoughts of being used—disappeared. I was a business woman. A daughter. A sister. The fantasies inside weren’t the thoughts of a puritan.
Deep inside, where I never let myself go, a sexual deviant lurked. A woman who was bold and angry. A woman beyond ready to admit she’d hidden so much of herself—even from herself.
Jethro’s hand moved to grab the back of my neck. His hips pulsed; his heart thudded hard, vibrating our tightly pressed forms.
I shivered in his hold, giving in completely to the clench between my legs.
“Answer me. Tell me the truth.” His mint-fresh breath fluttered my eyelashes as he hovered possessively over my lips. Only a tiny space between a tease and a kiss. Only a fraction between right and wrong.
Do it. Accept it.
He paused, murmuring into my mouth, “Tell me a secret. A dirty dark secret. Admit you want me. Admit you want your mortal enemy.”
I admit it.
“I won’t.” My heartbeat switched from thumping to humming; my skin prickled with heat.
I hated him. I wanted to kill him before he killed me. But I couldn’t ignore the overwhelming attraction he’d created. And it wasn’t just me affected. His breathing turned ragged; his fingers dug deeper with need. Every pulse of his hips drew a quickening in my core. I couldn’t control it. I didn’t want to control it. I was done controlling my life.
I’m free.
The longer we stood, the further we blurred the lines between debtor and debtee. Weaver and Hawk. In that tiny moment, we were each other’s answer to freedom. A mind-blistering coupling that would surely ruin me for life. But at least I would’ve lived.
I looked deep into Jethro’s burning eyes, transmitting everything I suffered. I hate you for making me acknowledge this part of myself.
His face tightened; his body slammed harder against mine. Whispering his lips over my cheek, bringing them low, lower, lower, the tip of his tongue tasted the corner of my mouth.
My world disintegrated with an ecliptic bang.
I trembled, eyes snapping closed on their own accord.
His hand on my hip shot downward, disappearing between our bodies.
I gasped, jolting in his hold as his fingers scrunched up my dress, shoving it out of the way as if it were nothing. My gasp turned to a ragged moan as he cupped me bold and strong. My gaze flew wide, locking onto his.
Never had something felt so good. So bad. So intensely delicious.
His gold eyes turned to a burnt sunset, filling with fire as he fingered my knickers. “Do you think you’re so perfect you wouldn’t scream my name? Do you think you’d be able to say no if I dragged you into the kennel and fucked you?” His fingers bit into my pussy, hot and punishing. “Because I want to. Fuck, how I want to. I want your screams. I want you begging.”
I lost myself completely, throwing myself into this new creation. The one who had the power to do this and still retain her heart. The one who would give Jethro her body because she wanted it. Not him.
His fingers scattered my thoughts, probing against the thin satin of my underwear. His touch was electrifying. I wanted more. I wanted everything.
I stepped off the cliff. “No. I’m not so perfect. And yes, I would scream.” Clawing at his shoulders, I forced myself deeper onto his hand. “You think I’m immune? You think I’m dry and repulsed by you?” Dragging him closer, I murmured, “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
Jethro’s nostrils flared. His fingers twitched as he narrowed his eyes. “You think you can confuse me?”
I pressed a finger against his mouth. “Shut up.”